


What We Lost

by Astra Altiora (astreanox)



Series: Shattered Heart, Burnt By Light [3]
Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Break Up, IT’S CHEESY AF, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Mentions of Axel/Saix, Post-Break Up, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26323015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astreanox/pseuds/Astra%20Altiora
Summary: Ventus, pressed with the view of his new friend, Roxas, and his past love, Vanitas, enter into a serious relationship right before his eyes, he does the only move he knew he needed to make.
Relationships: Roxas/Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts), Vanitas/Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: Shattered Heart, Burnt By Light [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688953
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	What We Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to one everyone in my VanVen Discord Server, but mostly our impeccable lovable leader. :) 
> 
> Apologies for any grammatical mistakes I wrote this all today lmao just to get my feelings out of my system. Please enjoy and tell me what you think! :)

Ventus follows his heart. Nine times out of ten, Ventus is motivated by his need to help the people around him with his stalwart golden heart. It’s what led him to see his life as one who fights for people’s rights. He may not be as audaciously loud or as scandalously known, but Ventus has built his reputation properly through his student organized advocacies and speeches. He’s not as fiery or as in-your-face as the other student leaders of his time, he flourishes in his grace and his diplomacy. His words were done with charm that lulls the audiences in a slow but certain epiphany. 

It’s no wonder that after his time in University, he’s subtly recruited to be a formal human rights diplomat. A position that has prestige and voice in its name. He was quite literally the youngest invitee to serve for the entirety of the differing Nations. Ventus became the voice of those that have been oppressed, abused and misused in life, and to him, it’s all that he could ever ask for. 

He had injustices made against him, his childhood and the potholes of his memories and the past that were still covered in a haze that depression incited, the only motivation he needed to stand up for the new generation that were in the same place. He’d never let them suffer the same misery, the same pain… same doubts that he had growing up. It was the least that he could do. 

“Vanitas…” Ventus opens the door to their one bedroom flat. “What is this?” He mumbles, his voice faint as the bag that hung over his shoulders. Vanitas is a few feet away from him, Ventus’s custom-made cat plushie in his hands, a playfully made banner taped to it’s rounded paws. “What’s… the occasion?” 

It was rare to see Vanitas smile before. It was rare to see him get excited enough to emit even a presence of interest in him. It was back when they were still kids, and his grumpy neighbour’s mood was as blank as cardboard. Ventus still remembers it, the first time that six-year-old Vanitas graced him with a chuckle. He may have sacrificed his apple-juice-box and stained his shirt with dirt and grass, but it was the first time that Vanitas actually looked at him. The smile he held on his face was mischievous and mostly laughing _at him_ , but Ventus didn’t mind. He decided that he liked Vanitas—more so, that he liked seeing Vanitas smile. 

The same smile that falters before him now. Vanitas scoffs and shakes the weariness away from his face. He points at their shared living room, lighted dim by candlelight, the coffee table filled with snacks from Doritos to marshmallows and at the centre is a small cake with a numerical candle of ‘5’. 

“Oh.” Ventus nearly shrank. _Our anniversary._

Ventus’s realization kicks him harder than he wanted. He used to be the one that planned and prepared those surprises, the one that set out to make homemade course meals and surprise his pro-gamer-in-training boyfriend. He used to be the one that waited home and supported Vanitas in his endeavours. Then the Allied Federation called… and then his advocacy flagship was established… 

He was whisked away to a life that had more meaning, more than just staying at their lovely, homey four wall apartment. Ventus started changing lives, his voice echoes for those that couldn’t or were muted to speak… yet, if his voice is so powerful, so great and notable, why can’t he bring himself to say anything. 

Vanitas shakes his head with a faltered smile, a faux scoff covers the sadness in his voice. “It’s fine, Ven.”

 _It wasn’t okay._ Ventus knows it wasn’t okay. It hasn’t been _‘okay’_ for a long time, and neither of them were willing to acknowledge it. They were so in love, so good for each other. Vanitas and Ventus. Most of their friends have told them they were a match made in heaven; that they completed each other, Ventus’s sweet and outwardly kind nature balances out Vanitas’s rough and abrasive demeanor. They were two sides of a whole. Ventus was only selfish with Vanitas, and Vanitas was only patient with Ventus. They were special persons that held a a piece of each other away from others. Their love story is as easily told to young girls and boys, when they first seek out a fairy tale romance. 

It’s the age old story of friends to lovers. They’ve been next door neighbours since pre-school, their mothers knew each other, and they’ve been regular play-dates since they learned to talk. Before they got into their relationship, before they saw a future together; little Ventus was the one that opened him to a phantasmic world, through the boy’s ‘surreal’ eyes, he dragged him from his cold lonely world and took him to small adventures when they were young, once it was a space adventure to another galaxy, next it was a dinosaur apocalypse; all of their mini-adventures from either’s backyard that turned into cuddles in a few years time. 

Vanitas was the one that realized his feelings first. Ventus was as oblivious as ever, but that’s just part of what made Vanitas’s heart pound harder. Vanitas always smiled at him like he’s seeing Ventus for the first time, like the world turned and spun around him. He did all to keep that world turning, even if that meant making impromptu uncharacteristic actions and impressions when Ventus’s sad or upset; Vanitas didn’t care who sees, as long as he can see his world turn bright again. He would do anything to keep Ventus smiling, and though Ventus was slow to get to the same page, he eventually figured what Vanitas’s ‘You’re an idiot’ meant. 

“I knew you’d forget.” Vanitas mutters, dejected.

When did it all go wrong; where did the cracks start; and, why did it take so long for them to see that their love isn’t enough to save them? 

Was it the nights that Ventus no longer comes home, the days Vanitas avoids their home with the idea that he’s the unfortunate, untalented anchor to his wonderful boyfriend. Was it the idea that they’ve talked less and less, and wandered away from each other, or perhaps... it was the day they stopped trying? 

They were perfect together, they balanced each other out like dark and light. Each side needed the others just as badly, taking from the other just as plenty. They were symbiotic, but make no mistake, there are days that they need _too much,_ **take** _too much_. Their fights were of their own, both of them thinking they’ve disappointed the other; both of them feeling they’re at fault and that they deserve the other’s anger. Vanitas clams up and sulks in his room, decided in keeping to himself and to muttering his apologies later. While Ventus does give him space, he sulks in his own way, because how could he be so selfish, how could he not have thought of how Vanitas would feel? 

They never talked about it. They ignored and allowed themselves to push away the negativity to the side and focused on the love that they know is still there. They never would’ve expected that the things they ignored would come crashing down. 

“I… Vani…” Ventus nibbles on his lower lip, unsure of what to say. “I didn’t–”

Vanitas turns his eyes to him, more hurt than confused. “It’s okay, Venty, don’t lie. It doesn’t suit you.”

Ventus shakes his head, his eyes already moist with unshed tears. His chest constricts in guilt at the sound of his boyfriend’s strained voice. “I… It’s just work, Vani! I’m sorry, I forgot. It’s just… it’s busy for me right now.”

“You’re always busy,Ven.” Vanitas mutters. “You’ve been busy since last year. It’s always work, it’s always ‘right now’—I know I’m being selfish, but, Ven… I miss you… I miss coming home to you. I miss my best friend–”

“You can’t expect me to just stay here for you?” Ventus catches himself, his words shoot out unexpectedly. His hand reaches to cover his mouth, already regretful at his words. 

“I can’t… I can’t fix your life for you.” the words pierces at Ventus as he speaks, “I can’t… Vanitas, I need to move on, this job… this job is everything to me. I miss you too, but I… I can’t do what you’re asking of me. I can’t… I won’t give this up for you… I’m sorry…”

“What about me, what about our life together?”

Ventus grips his bag’s straps tightly and fights back the tears that build in his eyes. “I think… I think I just… want more to life than just coming home to you… can’t you just be proud of me, Vanitas? Can’t you see that I’m happy?”

All of Vanitas breaks. It’s the words that he’s feared to hear, because it’s the only thing he knows that was bound to happen. Ventus, as his friend, was already too good to be true, but Ventus as his boyfriend–his partner–that’s a miracle from the start. He’s not special or anything, he’s not like the others who reek of success and talent. He was just himself, plain and ordinary. How could someone as extraordinary as Ventus be with him?

Vanitas heaves in broken breaths. “I know… I _know_.”

Ventus drops his bags and rushes to wrap his arms around Vanitas’s suddenly shaking from. Vanitas fights, weakly and shoves away his hands; battling with Ventus’s attempts to hug him. He heaves and sniffs, his knees feels weak enough that he collapses on them on the floor. He covers his eyes with his hands sobbing uncontrollably. Ventus finds himself crying just the same, harder even, he rests his forehead against Vanitas’s, their tears mesh together, falling between them as Ventus mumbles short apologies that never reached the other’s ears. 

“Don’t…” Vanitas wipes away Ventus’s tears and ignores his own. “Please don’t cry, Ventus… this is my fault. I…I know that I can’t keep you here. I’m not good enough–”

Ventus shakes his head. “Don’t say that, Vanitas! Stop. Please.”

“I want you to know,” Vanitas cups Ventus’s warm and wet cheeks. “I am proud of you… Don’t ever think that I wasn’t… and that… You deserve so much more, Ven. Much, _much_ more than I could give…”

They end up crying into each other’s arms. They hugged and sat on the floor, the dam of pent up issues they built engulfs them in one fell swoop. It castrates them from their hiding spots, from the high place of denial; it bares them open to the reality that love isn’t all there is to being ‘in love’. 

Hurtful as it is to admit.

They were in love. 

_Were_. 

Vanitas carries Ventus to their couch. It was worn and lumpy, it carries their mixed scents, and as they cuddled closer one last time, Ventus never felt lighter. The lighter he feels, the more foreign that couch felt. He remembers the kisses exchanged on that couch; the moments when they first moved; the first time they had sex; and the many, many times later on when they cuddle together into a ball, thinking it would never end. Somewhere along the way, their relationship took on a standstill and it was fight or flight.

They both chose flight, they were just too scared to admit it. 

Ventus leaves in the morning. Picked up his packed bags and went off. The thought of Vanitas, of the memories they both had, packed away to the back of his mind. He jumps into the work that he fell in love with. The work that made him feel needed in the world, and, though it kills him to admit, he’s never been happier. 

* * *

  
  


Two years later, his job as a human rights advocate and speaker had raised him to a level of being an honorary Federation Ambassador, and after a long awareness raising year, he’s finally able to take his break. It wasn’t a long break, but the Allied Federation Chairperson is in deep gratitude to his overwhelming dedication to their cause, hence Ventus could nudge her a little more to allow for at least a week or a month to visit his family and friends back home. The Universe knows living with Axel, as much as he loves his new found friend, and his fiance has made him miss the less uppity side of his life; the side that didn’t get plucked by one this generation’s youngest multibillionaire businessman. 

It’s weird that Axel and Roxas were best friends. They’re practically polar opposites, but Ventus’s just glad he got to meet them at the time he’s turning his life to a new page. 

“What do you mean, Roxas?” Ventus talks on the phone. “You said we’d have lunch! C’mon, you can’t ditch me!” 

_I’m not!!! It’s… I’ll tell you when I get there. There’s… t-this thing… I haven’t… AGH! I’ll tell you later! Don’t—Don’t tell Axel! I am warning you Ven, if Axel finds out about this before I tell him, I’m going to hurt you so bad you’re both going to wish that–_

“Okay, okay!!” Ventus giggles and shakes his head. “I promise! Now get to the train! I’m waiting!”

Ventus’s on his way himself. He’s practically skipping off the station, head filled with all the stories he wants to tell Roxas. Granted they only met after he settled into his Ambassador role in Radiant Gardens with Axel, and Roxas was only there for a visit for two weeks, but the three of them hit it off pretty well, and so was the start of Ventus’s new page and chapter in his life, one without Vanitas beside him. 

He gets off at Borough Station, happily excusing himself. It’s been a long time since he’s back at Radiant Garden, the usual crowd of amicable strangers that greet everyone with a day-making smile. He loved being home, he loved not being required to guard his smile and words, he’s not at risk of being critiqued by the Federation Council. A small part of him finds a reason to cheer in the small joys of being understood without thinking so hard about how to phrase his words.Even though, he comments to himself, he’s grown used to pretending to be the ‘perfect’ advocate the Federation needed, and he’s currently on a break, he prefers to put on the facade he’s grown to love. 

Times have really changed; he’s changed so much too. 

Ventus taps his card over the turnstile and sees his balance hit zero. He sighs out, guess his balance hasn’t been updated in two years too (Vanitas was the one that always loads his card up). How much would it hurt, he’s fine now, changed; in fact, if he does see Vanitas around, Ventus would love to catch up and get to know what the boy’s been doing. He’s made the decision to not check in on him, based on solely his own reasons, but they’re in the same City. 

_Anything could happen._

Ventus stands next in line to the machine, hoping to replenish his credit quickly. Seeing as he’s already ten minutes late, Roxas would probably fight him on being late–maybe even keep that top secret issue they talked about on the phone. He’s about to go to the machine when a commotion happens a couple of meters away from him. 

“You can’t go with me!!! Just!!!” A fiery voice groans out in exasperation. “Just… I haven’t seen this friend of mine in a long time, okay, just… go play with Sora or shit.”

 _That sounds like… Roxas?_ Ventus gets out of line and peers closer, squinting his eyes and adjusting his large framed glasses. Roxas looks about ready to pull his beanie off and his hair along with it. He heaves out a long sigh, and facepalms himself before walking away from him. The taller boy smiles cheekily, pokes his tongue to his cheek and follows Roxas with a wide grin over his face. 

_Is that…_ His heart constricts. He watches as the taller boy walks closer to Roxas, his fuller chest and lean arms— _it can’t be… it—_ pulls at Roxas’s shoulders and presses a kiss at the top of his friend’s head. 

“Vanitas!” Roxas groans out clearly embarrassed. He tries to fight away the arms that wraps over his shoulders and his chest, but gives up quickly. 

And Ventus knows Roxas gave up. _He knew,_ with every single part of his radically beating heart, because he knew Roxas could have fought that hug, he _could_ have, but he didn’t want to. He leans back, letting Vanitas hug him, letting Vanitas’s chin rest over his shoulder. Ventus could make out Vanitas mouth words to his friend, causing Roxas to turn red and break away from the hold. 

Roxas starts to back away, his face still red, he edges towards the exit. His mouth moves and Ventus doesn’t hear what he says. Although the amused look over Vanitas’s face was enough to tear Ventus’s soul out from his chest, and though it was like a million stabs to his heart, it wasn’t the worst. 

The worst was what Vanitas said after Roxas got to the stairs headed up the city:

“I LOVE YOU TOO, FUCKING HEDGEHOG!!”

Vanitas stands there cackling his bunny laugh, his eyes directed only to Roxas, as he turns bright, _bright_ vermillion as he shakes his fist in the air with a threatening look (that quickly dissipates as soon as he turns around to get out of the station). Vanitas stands there and stares at the staircases where his ‘love’ have just gone up to, and quietly smiles to himself. He turns around and heads to the turnstile towards Ventus’s direction. 

Ventus releases the breath he’s been holding onto and jumps to the nearest view obstruction possible. He didn’t care if he had to ask some deity to make a sinkhole, he’d hide in a bin, if he could. 

But… There’s none. There’s no place to hide and he’s out in the open. He fumbles with his card, his muffler and his jacket, thinking Vanitas wouldn’t notice him. 

“Hmm? Ventus…?” 

Ventus feels the stabs at his chest get harsher. More painful than the ones before. Vanitas laughs and waves at him. Ventus really wanted to to just leave, turn around and pretend he doesn’t know the bunny boy who clearly is unsure about his identity. 

He really should have pretended. 

“Ah.. Vanitas… is that you? You… I could barely recognize you…” 

_That’s a lie._

Vanitas nods his head vigorously, he sighs and motions to hug Ventus. Ventus barely reacts, but returns the hug with an awkward pat to Vanitas’s buffer built. Vanitas checks his watch and titters on his feet uncomfortably.

Ventus takes in the view before him. His once lean and oversized shirt wearing Vanitas from two years ago was gone, and the one before him, is a version of Vanitas that dresses well in smart casual clothes. The boy has an eye-catching watch and an expensive looking outerwear with a red muffler, the only thing off in his outfit is that grungy looking checkerboard band peeping from his coat. 

“Uh… You... You look good… but…” Ventus blanks out, his internal self running around as if there’s a fire that needs to be put out. He absently stares at the band. Thinking to himself that the accessory seems familiar to him somehow—

“Oh–this?” Vanitas raises the ‘accused’ object and smiles fondly. “My boyfriend gave it to me. It’s his anniversary gift…” He trails off, belatedly realizing the awkward air that hangs around them thickly. He mumbles out a line that Ventus no longer catches and the stand there in silence. 

“...Oh... I... I see.” Ventus nods and claps his hands, “congratulations!” 

“Thanks, Ven.” Vanitas shows him a sincere smile. “We’re really happy. I hope you are too, you’ve been saving the world. I hope someone saves you too.” 

_Yeah… I hope._ Ventus shuts down. The memories of their last day together plays in his head, the time he spent campaigning for the rights of others. Saving those that needed to be saved. The many days he spent happily doing the work he’s born to do. Never once did he think he’s missed out on anything, never once has he felt a loaded stab hit his chest square to his heart. 

Until Vanitas said: _I hope someone saves you too_. 

It could have been a joke, a play on words or just the boy’s way of relating to him, but at the end of the day, no matter what he meant… there’s one meaning that won’t change. Whoever’s going to ‘save’ Ventus, it’s not going to be Vanitas.

“Well… I have… to go, I really want to stay and talk–catch up, you know, but I have work. Let’s have a drink some time, yeah?”

Ventus watches Vanitas slap his card over the ticket pad, his heart beating furiously on his chest, hands clammy with sweat, and his knees buckled in an unknown anxiety. He stares at Vanitas’s receding form and mumbles the harsh realization to himself.

_What… What did I lose?_

* * *

  
  


There was a time when Ventus would have given everything he has for his dream. It turns out, his idealistic dream of world working together to find peace, is closer than he could ever imagine. Seven-year-old Ventus would have been proud. This was all he would blab about to his parents, he finally found his place, his footing and it’s right where he wanted to be. A place where his small voice could cause a roar of influence. He’s made it. He’s finally made it. 

Although… sixteen-year-old Ventus… he would have been miffed. 

Sixteen. That was when he and Vanitas started dating. When the shy boy from next door started to grow into the man he’d fall in love with. Vanitas had always been a little intimidating, a tiny bit out of place but a whole-lot endearing. Ventus knew that from the start, they were neighbors for a long time and only two years apart in school. Ventus was at the top of his class, a nerd and bookworm (or so he hears), while Vanitas was that sarcastic child that had eidetic memory. He had people laughing from the bellows of their stomach with his one-liners, eyes shut tight and in tears. While his smart assed comments were never meant to be laughed at, he carried himself well since he also had the brains to back it up. Anywhere the Vanitas went, a crowd of fans always follows. 

Ventus found him magnetized with people of different cliques, all of them with wide set grins as they linger next to Vanitas with his oversized black hoodie and rounded glasses. Vanitas would notice him before he could even squeak his presence known and would jog to where he is, smile brighter than anything he's seen.

_Tch. There you are, you idiot._

If Ventus shuts his eyes, he'd even hear Vanitas's adolescent voice, the soft glamour of his steady yet beautiful tones. 

"... we're thinking of moving in together." Roxas waves a hand in front of Ventus's stoic look. "Hey, are you even listening?" 

"Huh… what, sorry, Rox, I'm still a bit dazed." 

He wasn't. 

Roxas sighs and ruffles his hair. "It's fine, Ven. I'm probably talking your ear off too much too. You've always been such a good judge of character, I just wanted to know your opinion of him." 

_Opinion?_ Ventus had more than an opinion. He had a biased opinion, one that's split down to a 60-40, leaning towards telling Roxas about the wayward beliefs of moving in with someone. How it would take a lot of compromises, sacrifices and a bundle of letdowns because it's not what its cracked up to be. _Especially… if he's going to move in with a certain Vanitas._ Perhaps it was his experience that told him to steer Roxas away from it, but perhaps the ugly green monster in the pit of his belly has a lot more to do with it, than he originally thought. 

"... of who?" Ventus says carefully, as if he's coddling his heart from the imminent gash it would sport.

"Uhm… you know, Vanitas. My boyfriend." 

_My ex-boyfriend._

His friend's boyfriend _._

_Roxas's boyfriend, Vanitas._

It never got easier to hear and Ventus thinks he'd never get used to it either. Not when it's been a week since he saw them, hung out with them… and seen Vanitas again. There was a stabbing sensation that pricks softly at his chest, the moment he saw them at Borough Station, one that grew to a drilling when they had lunch, and to a nuclear explosion of epic proportions when he heard about how the two met at a boxing session at that gym Ventus and Vanitas used to go to. 

It was painful to hear about Vanitas's stages of courting Roxas, Ventus thought he'd pass out after hearing a small story about how lovestruck Vanitas was—the jealous creature in his soul began to creep up, at this time, and choose to rear its ugly head by irritably changing the subject. Roxas was startled, to say the least, but he chalks it up to Ventus's jetlagged self (which even for Ventus sounded so flimsy a lie that he turned red in embarrassment, it's been two weeks, of course he's not the least bit jetlagged anymore.) 

"He… is different from the guys you go for…" Ventus tries to salvage the conversation. He was being petty, childish and severely far _far_ away from the person he thought he's become after those two years.

He should be happy for Roxas. He _should_ but he'd be lying, if he said that. 

"Why… do you even like him?" 

And Ventus was never a good liar. 

Roxas takes a deep breath and with a calm lovestruck smile, answers: "I just do, Ven. I'll fucking deny these words, but… he's sweet… and kind… and he doesn't care if I'm a bit fucked up, he knows about… my past and the guys I've dated but fuck, he didn't even flinch! It's like… uh…"

Ventus watches Roxas turn 72 different shades of red, his words joining together in a mess to explain a simple answer that Ventus knew from the forefront of his heart. It's how Vanitas is, the way he adores anyone he gives his heart to, and the way he leaves an imprint on that lucky person's heart. 

_Like you're the only person he could ever love and no one in the entire universe can give you the same warmth. He feels safe and no matter the unsteadiness of your life, he makes you hold on… because..._

"—he makes you feel like you’re whole."

Ventus finishes, tears pool over his eyes, but he doesn't let them fall. He's not going to cry. He's not. But, as soon as he hears his voice break, he knew it was a loss cause. Quickly, he chucks a huge spoonful of rice and hot stew to his mouth and pretended the tears came from choking on his food and the terribly mild stew's spiciness. 

"Hey… Did you suddenly get hungry? Calm down, there's enough for thirds!" Roxas guffaws and offers Ventus a glass of water. He was laughing too much to notice the continuous streams of tears that flow from his younger friend's face. 

Roxas calms down after Ventus's third glass of water. He smiles that same (hateful) smile at Ventus. He sighs, wistfully, dreamy-eyed as he gazes elsewhere, thoughts focused on his boyfriend. 

"... but… what you said about him… yeah, its exactly that… he makes me feel… invulnerable or… just stronger I guess, he always said I was the stronger one." Roxas hums, absently. "He doesn't know how much of him is behind that strength."

Ventus chucks a half bowl of rice to his mouth. 

When Ventus left the morning after their 5th Anniversary, he packed his bags shy of dawn, snuck out of Vanitas's warm embrace, slipped off their couch and gazed at his best friend's sleeping face… for one last time. Albeit, unknowingly, he lingered for more than he thought he did. His eyes etched to memory the overused creme (white) couch, Vanitas's half covered body, his fetal position, his slight gape mouth and his messy black hair. His cheeks were red and eyes puffy from the night of crying they both did. They were twined together as if one false move would mean the end of it all--which it _was_. 

Vanitas held tighter, like Ventus was his lifeline. While, originally, Ventus had clutched Vanitas's hoodie and curled up in his arms. He didn't hold him as tight, when they went to sleep. It was the moment he woke up that surprised him. Against all odds, all sleep deprived nights, Ventus had clung to Vanitas, unmoving and still, while Vanitas's once tight hold had been loosened by sleep. 

Was it foretelling of how easily replaceable their love was, how ultimately… the one who still stubbornly held on, was the one that left quietly before the dawn?

Ventus packed his things, quiet and careful. He stifled his sobs as he picked things he would wear the most, his favorite socks and hoodies, sneakers and as he started his pile of accessories and mementos, tears dropped over their shared paintings and collages, their albums glare at him from where they're kept. Dusty and unopened for years. The worst of it, was when he looked at the top of their bedroom… a framed sketch of the dream house they both poured their innocent heart and soul on when they first moved in together. Vanitas promised him, in their two-year anniversary, that he'd make sure Ventus got their dream house. It was a promise that hung over their heads, the space where it was a shade lighter than the rest of the wall around it. 

Ventus left before The sun came up; left their home and their dreams. He left his heart where it should be. 

The two years he spent away from Vanitas, though successful, were the hardest to bear. Regardless of the field, his drive and capabilities, it was inevitable to be treated unfairly outside his city. The cold reality of the weight of the world beat him down every damn day, and every day Ventus wanted to crawl back to Dusk City., to their one-bedroom flat and into the comforts he has known… and yet, that same thought is what pushed him to go on. He left their home, he better make damn sure he left for something. He can't go back, and he wouldn't, but all his thoughts that kept him going… were all thoughts of them together, because before they were lovers… they were best friends.

Vanitas always knew how to egg Ventus on, the words to say to make him giggle and smile, the food he likes to re-energize him when he's tired. It wasn't just Vanitas, but Ventus too, they were just _that_ compatible. They knew what the other needed before the other asked, it was like magic, and for a short time Vanitas had called Ventus his 'Tiny Tinkerbell’', while Ventus had simply called Vanitas, 'my Hero'. It was cheesy and made Vanitas blush and turn away, but he'd proudly play the part. Vanitas would swoosh in during exams, bringing his tiny overworked fairy tea and pastries; he'd bring Ventus extra hoodies, because Ventus always gets cold in the movies no matter the amount of layering he has on, and when all is said done, the day comes to a close, Vanitas would wrap him in the most welcoming hug. 

_I'm like a save point!_

**A… what? Vanitas, you're not a save point!**

_Not literally, dumbass. It’s more like… Whenever you feel like you need a do-over, just come to bed… and I'll reload your best save file!_

**… You… Vani… real life doesn't work like that, you can’t just re-load a save file!**

_Says who?_

**Time? Besides, I don't even know what 'my best save file' is...**

_Isn't it… Waking up to me?_

  
  


Ventus sniffs and chuckles sadly at the same time. Vanitas’s laughter haunts for the nth time since he’s gone home and locked himself up in his childhood bedroom. It’s been two weeks, and for the entirety of both, he’s been reduced to hiccups and sobs at the imagery of Vanitas’s smile. The empty room, his only bouncing board, a thankful isolation from the familiar home. He’s shed so many tears in the same room, happy, sad, anxious and angry tears; his room bore witness to the many times The ‘Sunshine Diplomat’ was actually a little less of a sunshine. The familiar pastel green hues of his childhood walls are somehow a fitting comfort to the pain he tries to nurse, a sort of reminder that everything would be alright. 

The photographs and polariods he’s taken remained the same, still hung by closet pins over craft paper ropes and his self-made carousel of photos. It used to be his favorite part of his room, a comfort, seeing the rotating photos of his parents, his favorite professors and the friends he’s made. Of course, the centerpiece to his carousel was the photostrip he has with Vanitas… they were smiling, making a goofy face and in the last square, was Ventus hugging Vanitas by his neck, rather playfully, while he plants a comical kiss on Vanitas’s cheek. Vanitas looked stunned—wide-eyed and unsuspecting. 

It was Ventus's first step, the confession came after… the ‘I like you, too’ came next. 

And the ‘I love you’s came last. 

The 'I love you's always came last, even as they fought and shouted, through gritted teeth and pouting lips they'd always say 'I love you' like a period. An end rebuttal to all statements to end all arguments. 

Even when they broke up. 

Ventus fishes for his a small note in his pocket, the paper looked old, creased in away that suggests its repeated opening and closing. Truth be told, he needn't open the note to know what it said, he already had it engraved to the back of his head. A haphazard reminder that clung along to his new life, a piece of the past that he regaled in, when things got bleak at his job. 

_To my Favorite Idiot. Just in case you didn't pack enough layers. -- Vanitas_

The small note was stuck between the folds of a pre-packed hoodie already inside Ventus's suitcase. He never noticed that night, with the way he was shoving item after item. Vanitas had known about his inability to keep warm and his perpetual ice hands during the autumn and winter seasons. It was very Vanitas to sneak in a hoodie or a pair of mittens in his pack, that's just who he is… and Ventus couldn't have cried any harder the day he first saw the note. 

He wore the hoodie almost every night, and then every other night, until he only glances at it in wistful sighs. Guilt-ridden and heart-heavy, note in hand, pressed to his chest like a band-aid.

Eventually, Ventus grew up and his pining heart got better when he met his sponsors' for his Flagship movement. A particularly rich couple self-made in Radiant Gardens—first, the world business capitals next—for a conglomerate of ventures, Saix and Axel. Ventus stepped further into his new life and with Axel's constant fussing and cooing at him like he was his adopted baby brother, Ventus found other people to depend on. The hoodie he keeps dear to his heart, folded neatly and kept at the same suitcase it came from, buried in dust and to the recesses of his mind.

That's what he needed to do, more than ever, to pack Vanitas's hoodie, his photos, memories and anything related to him and put it away. 

_Put it far away…_

Ventus gulps down a sob and takes out a plain looking box from his suitcase (hidden beneath the hoodie) and sets it open on his desk. Letters folded neatly into a pile greets him. He takes a deep breath and wipes the tear trails from his face and starts to clear his room of any trace of Vanitas in his life: pulling photos from collages, the carousel and his frames, he packs up the hoodie in the same box, the trinkets and keychains he's kept since they were young. Everything that is related to Vanitas in any way and throws them into the box of letters. 

He grabs his coat, box close to his chest, and goes to the only place he knew he shouldn't even be found a mile away from. 

* * *

Vanitas had told him, while meeting him (for a second time) with Roxas, that he stayed in the same apartment. He told Ventus that the place holds too many memories to let go of, but mostly, he reasons, there was no need to uproot his life. The neighbors were nice and the landlord gives him free food on Fridays, it was, as he said, "living the life" but Ventus didn't hear anything after 'same apartment'. Perhaps it was his unconscious mind that's to blame, or his subconsciousness that causes him to take the train at ass o'clock and knock at the door he once had keys to. 

Whatever it was, unconscious or subconscious, he's already knocked and footsteps have started to head his way. 

_Now or never_. 

He grips the box tightly over his chest, his heartbeat louder than anything he's heard for the last two years while his breathing loses its pacing at the thought of seeing Vanitas for a second time **_without_ ** Roxas. He still wanted to hide in a bin, doorbell-ditch or something, but his feet kept him firmly planted in place. His mind was double-taking in anxiety, contemplating escaping through the lift or stairs—the door opens and reveals Vanitas, his messy black hair, warm golden-eyes and fit white shirt and joggers. 

"This is for you." The words spill out Ventus's mouth faster than the cold that crawls up his spine and nerves. He pushes to Vanitas the filled box and cuts him off before he could speak. 

"There… there are… 108 letters there. I—I wrote them… since I left. They're, all addressed to you… but I… I never… sent them…" 

Ventus gulps down the oncoming sob, his eyes pricking with tears as his voice breaks through his explainations. Vanitas stares at him by his door, quiet and dumbfounded at the sight and onslaught of words. 

"I never sent them because I was afraid… I was afraid of you and… H-how you make me feel—and I know! I know… it's selfish and there's no way I can ever make it up to you and… I know it doesn't matter now … because you’re happy… and after what I did… but I… just want you to know…" 

He hiccups, his pent up tears falls over his red face. He bites the side of his cheek, willing his sobs away, praying he'd be able to hold on until his message was done. Until he's said what he needed to say. 

"... this was how I spent those two years, Vanitas," he shrugs helplessly, his feet ready to run, as soon as he drops the end of his thought. 

"...Wanting you."

Ventus let the sobs locked at the back of his throat out, sniffling as he runs towards the lift he's grown reminiscent of. He would have made a perfect escape, he didn't need to know what Vanitas had to say about his box of letters, he didn't need to see if he takes it into his flat or throws it out. He's done what he needed and that's all that _should_ matter. 

Not the hand that's firmly grasped over his forearm. Not the soft voice calling him 'Ven'. Not the familiar scent of powder and linen he's grown to miss so terribly. 

"Ventus." Vanitas stares at him with intense eyes. The apology still fresh in his head, the words still bounces around in he thoughts. It's been years, he's found himself and a new person to love, but still… his heart can't handle the sight before him. 

Never in his whole life had he stayed still when Ventus cried, never in the past and in a million years. 

"Hey… listen… what you did, when you left… it's okay. You did it for you, Ven, and that's okay." 

Ventus shakes his head, "No, it's not! It's not okay! You can't… it's too much to forgive—"

"—Well… that's too bad, because I just did." Vanitas says with a small fleeting smile, he brushes away the fresh tears with his thumb. 

"Idiot." He hums and cups Ventus's hot cheeks. "It's okay, Venty." 

Ventus still shakes his head in defiance. The nicknames like a slap to his face. He shakes his head, his heart beating faster at the sound of Vanitas's gentle voice, his forgiveness a surprise he's unable to comprehend. He tries to pull his arm away from Vanitas, but Vanitas grasps it tighter. 

"I… I… I'm sorry, Vanitas. I'm sorry. I'm sorry—"he chants continuously, shaking while his voice cracks in sobs. "I'm sorry…. You're so fucking happy… I'm sorry.. I'm sorry that I'm not… I'm sorry that I _can't_ be _…_ I'm sorry Vanitas, please…. Please, please… I… I just want…. I just want to wake up to you again… please… please, Vani… please be my save point again—" 

Vanitas pulls him to an embrace, his hand, runs down Ventus's back in an attempt to calm him down. The same way he does before. Ventus only cries harder, his arms locked tight around Vanitas. 

_I still love you._ Ventus's head shouts what his voice can't say, what his embrace could only hope to rely. _I never stopped.. I just made a mistake… but I never… thought for a second that we wouldn't find our way back to each other… I didn't want to lose you… I'm sorry._

_I made a mistake…_

"...—lost… you…" 

Vanitas strokes Ventus's hair, softly, whispering soft assurances, like he would before. "You'll never lose me."

"Don't… say that." Ventus mumbles, his hand tight over him. "Please… I don't...I don't… know what I'll do…. If you do."

Vanitas hugs him tighter, all his mind and his senses, suddenly thrust back to the time they were together. It was easy to fall back into who he was, the him that loved the boy in his arms. He leans his cheek over Ventus's soft hair and presses a soft comforting kiss over his head. 

"You'll never lose me, Ven." 

Vanitas buries his nose to Ventus's peach scented hair, his senses filled with the longing he's struggled with a year ago. Vanitas had unconsciously bent forward, little though it seems, he still carried a height difference with the smaller boy. He relishes into the lost scent and cradles him comfortably, until they're leaning on the wall of the hallway. Vanitas had locked his arms protectively around Ventus, while Ventus has curled up on his chest.

 **Guilt**. It's what Ventus should feel. He would never had done this, he would never have to beg for someone in this way. He respects people and knows that to be cheated on is the worst thing possible in a relationship. He knows it, he feels it gnaw at his insides. His heart heavy with regret, instantly, as he pulls himself off him. 

He should've walked away. The lift was there. The dinging sound an alarm of its presence, a sign that Ventus should have taken his leave. 

Vanitas presses a soft kiss over Ventus's forehead and pushes his messy hair back. He smiles at him like nothing was wrong, like they weren't bundled up in a compromising position. He runs his knuckles to the side of Ventus's soft reddening cheeks, down to his chin, mesmerized. Vanitas traces a thumb over Ventus's plush lips and stares on in silence.

Ventus sniffs and hiccups. "I still…" 

"...Ven." Vanitas rasps. "I… I can't—"

Ventus's heart crashes. He knew this would happen. Vanitas wouldn't hurt Roxas like that, neither would he ever think about cheating. He's better than that. Ventus knew that. But deep inside, Ventus also knew that Vanitas wouldn't push him away. He knew from those golden eyes that stared at him, from his voice that reached out in longing. He knew from the moment their skin touched, the way they fit each other's embraces and how they fell short of breath in repressed tension. 

_Vanitas still loves him._

"...I know…" Ventus whispers. 

He slides his hands up Vanitas's chest and reaches over his shoulders. He pulls himself up, feet tiptoed on the floor and presses their lips together in ardent want. Ventus leads the kiss, showering Vanitas's stoic ones with light kisses, over and over, urging to be let in. He trails his lips to the boy's chin and jaw, while he mutters _'please, please, I miss you, Vani'_ in every kiss. 

Vanitas cups his face, gentle and hesitant, his eyes dark and clouded. He wanted to kiss back, he wanted to lose himself, he wanted Ventus too. 

"...Ventus." He warns, his hand steadily slipping pass Ventus's lower back. It rests over the curve of his ass and inches lower to his thigh.

Ventus could feel Vanitas's cock from his pants. He still affects him so, a triumphant cheer resounds in his head, the worry for guilt and regret drowned out by lust. He slides his leg closer to the hard on, making Vanitas grip at his ass. His head falls over Ventus's shoulder as he stifles a moan with gritted teeth. Ventus doesn't stop and he noses along Vanitas's jaw, down to the curvature of his neck and licks a spot below his ear. Vanitas yanks him by his hair, both their eyes completely overrun by his baser instincts.

"Is this what you really want, Ven?" Vanitas tugs on his hair, he pulls it enough to reveal the smooth neck he's missed. 

He bites his lip, forcing himself to stop salivating at the sight. He wanted to mark him, it's been long, but he still knows where Ventus's spots are. He knows where to lick to make him mewl, how to suck to make him buck his hips. He knows how to fuck him until he screams. 

"You're the only one I want…" Ventus moans out. "That never changed…"

Ventus was his first time and no one will ever take that place from him. Vanitas still imagines how Ventus guided him during their first night. How clueless he was to everything and how Ventus prepared himself in front of him like a show. Ventus had pressed a considerable amount of lube on his hand, and while his ass was displayed bare to Vanitas, he prods into his hole, moaning and crying at the pleasure. Vanitas knew then and there that Ventus's moans would be a sound he'd get addicted too, in the best way possible. 

After years of being together and apart, he thought he'd develop an immunity to the boy's soft mewls and moans, it was only logical to lose interest in someone after copious amounts of time together. But with every fuck and night they spent, Vanitas thought Ventus to be different. Not once had he tasted the same, not once did his screams and moans sounded alike. He was a symphony of infinite possibilities and Vanitas knows how to play him.

He knows about Ventus's praise-kink, his need to be called beautiful and pretty with every kiss; how he gets off on seeing Vanitas press kisses along every inch of his skin, starting from his toes, legs and thighs, his inner thighs and hips; and, despite the cute appearance Ventus held, he knows how wrecked he wants to be, how he begs Vanitas to fuck him barely after an orgasm. 

One moan and Vanitas was gone. 

He pulls Ventus into a hard kiss, their lips smashing against each other, teeth clashing as they slot their tongues messily over the other. Vanitas hoists Ventus by his thighs, deepening the kiss, while Ventus wraps his around his neck and let's himself be carried into _their_ old apartment. 

The front door locks and Ventus's slammed against it, his legs locks over Vanitas's waist, hands pulling his weight up while he drowns in the familiar taste he's longed for. He licks into the younger boy's mouth, tugging at his tongue with a suck. Vanitas pull at Ventus's hair and stops the kiss abruptly.

" _Fuck_ ." Vanitas mutters out, almost vehement. As if the urge to please him was a foreign act. He slams his hand on the space beside Ventus's head. "... _fuck._ "

Ventus presses his lips together, guilty and embarrassed. Vanitas was a different person in bed. He had a dominance in him that only Ventus ever sees… or at least, Ventus thinks so. Vanitas would be gentle with his tugs, his caresses were always done with a touch of a feather. Never too hard or too rough, the only time that he would ever fuck hard were the times they'd come out of a fight or when Ventus asks for it. Vanitas was always an eager partner—to please and to be pleased—and Ventus missed seeing him come undone like this. 

The air grows thicker—heavier—when Vanitas turns his darkening eyes at him. His lips bleeds by his own teeth and Ventus pauses at the sight. Carefully, he places his feet down, using his arms over the boy's shoulder as support. He stands in his short stature and slowly shakes his head, he cups Vanitas's grieving face, the warm cheeks of unshed tears, pressed against his hands. His eyes glued at the sight of the boy's gashed lip. 

"I'm sorry." Ventus whispers. "I'm sorry… this is wrong…. I know you love him. I'm sorry." 

Vanitas's eyes widens at the apology, his tears fall in unending trails down his face and disappears on Ventus's small hands. He shuts his eyes and sobs quietly, punching the door in front of him. Ventus keeps still, his guilty look plastered over his face has he watches Vanitas's rage out, screaming and banging on the door. 

"That's the problem, Ven… that's… the fucking problem!" 

He places his bruised hand over the smaller's shoulder. He stares at him, his pain apparent at his look. He leans in and kisses Ventus, their lips pursed together to a soft chaste one, calm and opposite of how they were moments before. He leans in again and leaves soft kisses over Ventus's stoic lips. 

"... sorry—"

"I told you… I forgive you." Vanitas mumbles, pressing their foreheads together. "Stop… stop, already. _Please_." 

Ventus shakes his head a frown set over his face. "That's… that's not why I'm apologizing…" 

"Then… why…?" 

If Ventus could curl into a ball and disappear, he would, but the brazenness of his actions tonight make him bite down at every bit of courage he has. His principle and compass thrown to the wall, forgotten. He takes the hands over his shoulders and clasps it tightly before him. His small hands highlighted with the size of Vanitas's, it was a sight he always adored about them and even as they tumbled into Hell for the indiscretions they made tonight, the view still made him smile. 

"I keep hurting you." Ventus mumbles. "... always…. Always…al—"

"Ven." Vanitas clicks his tongue. "It's okay." 

He re-clasps his hand over Ventus's and tugs carefully further into their old home. The flat looks the same. Same wooden floors, white walls and TV set. The couch Vanitas sits on was the same creme couch they spent their supposed last night in, the mess of the coffee table the only foreign sight to Ventus that if he hadn't known any better, he'd think nothing's changed since he left two years ago. The room and all its essence, air and vibe, make worse the burgeoning desire bubbling on Ventus's skin. 

Vanitas stares up Ventus's standing form, his seated position had his legs open, his cock stuck out a portion of his joggers. Their hands were still entwined. Ventus straddles him, their lengths grind together on contact. Ventus sits himself over Vanitas's thighs, hands over the boy's shoulders and leans his head over his chest.

"... It’s fast." Ventus whispers, more in shock than anything. "...Vanitas…?" 

Their eyes meet and immediately Ventus's rational side wanted to run. Rare was it that Vanitas's breathing would become erratic without much to go on but intimate touches, but when he does quiet down with his bated breath, Ventus knew what it meant. _He wants me._ He could let out a moan and set him off, he could have kissed along his neck and goaded him into a makeout frenzy—he didn't have to grind down on their cocks and make Vanitas claw harshly over his back, a hiss and a frustrated 'fuck' escape his lips. Ventus puts weight on his knees and presses their cocks together, grinding their lengths with a slow deep motion. His breaths turned laboured as he moves up and down, Vanitas's hand already gripped tight over hem of Ventus's pants. 

"... _Ven…—ah…"_

Vanitas whispers, his free hand reaches Ventus's chin and quiets the moans he has into those soft pink lips. Ventus continues his motions, the kiss a sudden (but welcomed) addition, he focuses on their movement while Vanitas leads their tongues into a dance of dominance. Ventus's pace was steady, slow but absolutely deliberately excruciating. Vanitas mouths curses into their kiss, his hips bucking upward in want of faster friction. 

"...Are you… okay… with this?" Ventus pants out as he pulls away, he was far gone from his moral compass. "...Do you… want me to… help you _more_?"

Vanitas could feel the pit of his abdomen churn and constrict, his imminent orgasm closer than he expected. His fucks with Ventus were always a mix of positions, Ventus would always try new things, but he always loved riding his cock while he plays video games on the same couch. It was their go-to position, he's won co-op games with Ventus's ass slapping over his thighs. But. He'd never come this fast in those times, perhaps it's the memories that play like porn in his head, or the muscle memory of having the petite boy sprawled over his chest, dick hard against his own. 

"... let me—"

He grabs Ventus's ass and locks him in place forcing him to stay still. Ventus lets Vanitas ride out the high without the pressure of his release. He shivers as the elation quiets, his breath already heavy as if he already came, and his sweat covered his skin like a second layer. He licks into Ventus's mouth tugging and pulling at the boy's tongue, his hand rubbing at Ventus's still hard dick. 

"...why didn't you... come?" Ventus says in between kisses. "... is it because…" _you wanted me to be Roxas?_

"No, it's not what you think." His fingers trace over the edges of Ventus's pants. "... have you had anyone… recently?" 

Ventus flushes pink. How does he say that he hadn't had anyone _but_ still had some, or that his ass has been recently stretched by toys he could only imagine to be Vanitas's? He's fucked himself with toys, while moaning out his ex's name in the dark too many times to count. The fact that Vanitas grew into himself, only made Ventus's imagination spark, after they saw each other again. 

"... I can take _you_ , Vani." Ventus stands up and strips off the pants Vanitas's been fiddling with since they started dry-fucking.

Vanitas nods and they share a knowing look. He pulls his joggers down, his half hard length raised in the cold air of his apartment. It was a lucky accident to be caught not wearing boxers or briefs under his joggers, a practice Vanitas had picked up when he and Ventus were horny college students who'd fuck at every chance they got… back then, keeping the laundry pile small was a struggle. It was a habit Ventus giggled at, a habit Vanitas never changed after seeing the immediate joy it sends Ventus in. 

He leans back on _their_ couch and watches Ventus kneel in between his legs, his small hands pushing his thighs apart as he slots himself at the center. Vanitas's dick was almost flaccid, the erection still present, but barely. Ventus blows on it, before giving it's head soft and small licks. The tip of his tongue draws along the pulsating veins and down his groin. He takes the soft length into his mouth, softly playing with it with his tongue, letting the taste of precum envelope his mouth. He rolls and sucks on the softness, feeling a hand grip on his hair. In seconds, Ventus feels the length harden, growing until the shaft touches his lips, his tongue wrapped thick with precum. Vanitas pushes his head to move, bob and suck on his hardened cock. Ventus moves in a steady pace, his lips grazing perfectly over the cock, spit dripping over the length and down his chin. Vanitas's disgruntled moans echo through the room as he thrusts further into Ventus's mouth.

The length and girth of the cock almost chokes Ventus, but he takes it all the way, deep throating the length. It makes Vanitas freeze, he groans out curses through the sensation, his eyes lower to view how Ventus's plush lips were rounded over the base of his cock, his bright eyes watery, his cheeks hollowed out. All thoughts other than the beautiful boy before him flew away, his need to satiate his libido harshly threw his common sense out the door, except the guilt. 

The guilt was still there.

"Baby…" Vanitas mutters, " stop… c'mere…" 

Ventus slides the cock out of his mouth with a pop. The sound of the word 'baby' ringing a malevolent voice in his head. He crawls up and goes back to straddling Vanitas. He undresses his sweater and throws it to the floor, and helps Vanitas out of his sweaty white shirt. While Vanitas's hands starts to part his ass-cheeks, he hears Ventus suck in a breath before he leans in for a long kiss. 

"... Okay… maybe not raw…" Ventus retracts. "... Do you… have any—"

Vanitas's already manhandling him to face the cushion on their couch, his ass in the air, his thoughts unfinished but answered with a warm tongue licking over his crack. Vanitas licks a long strip from the small sensitive patch of skin and above the hole, adding more spit with each lick. He presses himself closer, his tongue deliberately missing the entrance despite its welcoming pink roundness. He drops his spit over the round muscle, covering his fingers with the same. He pushes a digit in and all too immediately, Ventus's stifling moans on the couch cushion. He watches the hole greedily suck in his finger, adding another and a third at some point. When the third finger breached Ventus's prostate, his legs almost gives in, an unexpected orgasm shoots cum over the couch. 

"... Vanitas… I…" he rasps. "...mess."

"I'll clean up later. Come all you want."

Vanitas ignores him, putting harder pressure on the fingers pushing in and out of Ventus's ass. The loud moans and cries stifled. The sensation of warmth and constricted walls over his fingers clouds Vanitas, his need to feel the pressure on his cock doubling. Ventus was still riding his high, his orgasm made every bit of skin and muscle in his body warm and sensitive that Vanitas's fingers makes his eyes water and his mouth whine. It was too much. _Too much._ And he loves it. 

Vanitas lines his cock towards the loose entrance and in one swift move, Ventus cries out in overstimulation, while he thrusts his length in. Ventus presses himself further into the couch, as if he could hide his prostate away from the hardness inside him. Vanitas snaps his waist and Ventus shouts out his name in languid cries. He pounds inside him, his hands gripping over the rounded ass, harder and faster with every thrust. He fucks into Ventus's walls, his over-abused spot and hole. The tightness around his cock pressing at his shaft like an embrace, a sultry rub that begs for his cum. 

Vanitas bends over him, his hands reach Ventus's hardened cock and pumps it along with his thrusts. The room has already been filled with Ventus's cries and gasps, the sweet voice that begs for Vanitas to slow down, but Vanitas had reached a fever pitch that won't dither until his release. He feels the cock in his hand sputter out release, arguably a third time, before Ventus's knees slide down on the cushion and the tight press on his shaft loosens. His own cock's shaft exposed while the tip of his head still immersed in the loose ring muscle, still hard from the edged release. 

".… Vani…" Ventus sighs out, breathless. His shaking arms grips at the armrest and flips himself to his back. 

Vanitas bends over him, his fingers toy with Ventus's hardened nipples on his way to pressing their lips together. The sweat and drool on Ventus's side make everything messy and wet, their kiss was loud and obnoxious. It echoes through the quiet, a slow build of conscious guilt slow to ebb dread on their skins. Vanitas pulls Ventus to his lap, his hard cock plunging deep into him. He kisses the tears that fall over the red cheeks before him. 

"...Fuck." Vanitas mutters. "Just… a little more, Venn." 

He pulls Ventus up, his arms wrapped around the smaller boy's lower waist and locks him in place. He thrusts into the loose hole, hurried and breathless, his lips pressed over Ventus's wet cheek. He comes soon after, his cum bursts into spurts into Ventus, filling his ass with warmth and a fullness that makes him pull Vanitas in for a kiss. He moans into the tired kiss and wraps his arms over his shoulders. They tumble on the couch, Vanitas on his back and Ventus sprawled over him. 

They sigh into the quiet. The unseen judging eyes baring their fangs at their tryst. Ventus was raptured by lust, pain and regret, the boon of the night still over his skin but the consequences of his actions start to come down like a jackhammer over his heart. He shouldn't have done what he did, he's hurt Vanitas again and he keeps doing it. Despite the pleasure that surges in his body and every inch of his skin, he cries his hot tears. Over Vanitas's built chest, he shivers into sobs as he hugs their bare bodies together. 

"I love you so much, Vani…" Ventus whispers. "...and it hurts so bad…"

Vanitas pats his head, his own face covered with tears. His own burden pushes through him by the unstoppable tears that roll over his face. "Ven..." 

They spent the night cuddled closely on their couch, arms and legs locked together, Vanitas's lips pressed over Ventus's forehead, his arms tight over the others messy hair and back. Ventus had woken to Vanitas's tear-stained face, dried by sleep. He gazes for another second, before he slips away from Vanitas hold. He crawls away from the couch, his legs still shaking as he looks for the clothes he's lost. 

He pulls the clothes over him and dresses himself up. The quiet of the night still keep a harsh grasp over them. He steps away and works himself towards the kitchen counter, finding that small notepad they kept there before and writes one last note before leaving out the front door. 

Vanitas counts the seconds, since Ventus's expected departure. This was the ultimate end of things, he knows it. He knew he couldn't ask him to stay, he had Roxas, after all, asking Ventus to stay was not an option and it would only hurt him… and Vanitas never wanted to see Ventus hurt, never again. He tosses on the couch—now colder and emptier than before—and basks in the peach scented memories that lay there in that same couch, five years or seconds ago.

The world spun around the moment he opened the door, he hadn't realized that by opening his front door, he's also opened everything else to the same person behind it. The _same person_. The same one that left him years ago, the one that packed a bag and never looked back. He took everything important to Vanitas that day and ran to Radiant Gardens with it. He thought he'd learnt his lesson, but when he came knocking at his door, Vanitas still chose to open it to the storm that he knew would wreak havoc into his life. What could he do, why would he keep the damn thing locked, when everything important was gone the same day Ventus walked out on him—at least now… he has a chance to get it back. 

_Maybe._

He was a wreck back then, he hated being left. He hated that he couldn't even chase him. It seemed as if the more he would beg for Ventus to stay, the more Ventus would be willing to leave. Weeks and months pass, and the phantom of his old relationship always found new ways to destroy his life. He couldn't bring himself to go to his friends, or his measly job, he couldn't pull himself together enough to shower. It took two months and a couple more weeks before he could understand that despite what he said, how he accepted their situation, he was… upset and he needed to let it out. He wanted to punch and kick the situation until it cried, until it broke and he and Ventus could go back to before. 

Ventus was loud about his muscle kink. He was always staring far longer than necessary at Thor's biceps when they watched Avengers, a little too interested in the shower scenes dedicated to Thor's abs in the second movie. He had pointed it out once, but Ventus was quick to deny the allegation—red and embarrassed. 

_They… just look nice… Okay? I love you because you're my cuddly bunny, Vani! Please don't change!_

Perhaps it was the feeble thought of a chance, a hope that maybe if he builds up himself, Ventus would go back to him. It's not logical or rational, but Vanitas trudged to the gym and signed himself up for a trainer anyway. He knew he lacked in luster next to his brilliant boyfriend, and perhaps it was why was willing to let go. A small part of him had always known—nay, expected—to be left in the dust when Ventus grew into who he could be. He wanted to be better, in any way, and loose as a goal as it is, physical change may be the start of it. 

Vanitas wanted to get Ventus back. When he's better, when they're equals. When they could stand as partners. 

Then Roxas happened. 

Vanitas slams a hand to his face and groans. He's still tired, exhausted from the sex and the emotions they laid with. He's stuck between the person he always wanted to be with, the person he craved and hurt for, and the person that loved him at his worse. When he was unlovable, imperfect and lacking, Roxas wasn't a love he expected nor was it one he thought he deserved, but he was happy. He was loved and he loved him too, but...

He gets up from the couch and slides up his stained joggers. A stain not even highest setting of his washing machine could remove. The note left on the kitchen, his only concern. The scribble on the paper was familiar as day, the soft neat strokes and small cartoon-y characters a representation of the boy that wrote them. Vanitas's heart already clenches in pain (what more for the 108 letters he's yet to read). 

_I'm sorry for leaving without telling you. I don't think I would be able to… I'll always love you, Vanitas. I hope he makes you happy. -- Ven_

"You're so unfair. " Vanitas presses his lips together, the tears roll over his cheeks. The pain settled on his heart like a brand new ache. 


End file.
